


we are the kids your parents warned you about

by nailinhoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Cher likes to party, Drinking, Drug Use, F/M, Grimmy is actually only mentioned, High School, Liams has a crush on his English teacher, Louis deals drugs, M/M, Niall is a virgin, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, Self edited fic, Shitty step-father, Skins AU, Swearing, Teacher-Student Relationship, Zayn needs a muse, always gotta have one of those, and she loves pills, but maybe that'll change, does it even count as high school?, he throws really awesome parties, i'll add tags as i go, skins!au, sorry for any typos :(, the british school system confuses me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nailinhoran/pseuds/nailinhoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is an artist with no muse; Liam has a crush on his teacher, but his best friend, Sonya, is in love with him; Cher is a mess who Niall would much rather date than use to lose his virginity; Harry is a flowerchild with an abusive stepfather and Louis is a drug dealer who may just be in love.</p><p>A Skins AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everyone

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self-edited fic. Sorry about any typos :(
> 
> Also, I'm not sure how I feel about the title. I may change it.

chapter one: Everyone

 

Niall is woken up by the sound of his phone. The sun is shining in through the window; he knows he really needs to get up for school, but he doesn’t want to – who ever does? Without even bothering to check his caller ID, he answers the phone.

 

“What?” he tries to sound annoyed, but he really just sounds drunk with sleep.

 

The person on the other end of the line chuckles; “Rise and shine, Nialler. Big day ahead of us, yeah?” Niall can hear the smile in Louis’s voice. The annoying twat somehow always manages to be chipper in morning, even if he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before and has a hangover that could challenge any cast member of _Jersey Shore_.

 

“Come out for brekkie at the diner? Zayn’ll be there too. We’ve got a surprise for you.” Niall mumbles that he’ll be there in ten, and then the call is cut off. The Irishman hates the surprises Zayn and Louis have for him; they always involve ways for him to lose his virginity, which he honestly has no interest in just throwing away. Yeah, he is a horny teenager, but he also doesn’t see being a virgin as a bad thing. When the time comes, he’ll lose it just like everyone else on the bloody planet. It’s not like he’s waiting for marriage.

 

Niall is the type of person who is friendly with everyone. He has a bright smile, bubbly attitude and is the kind of person you just want to open up to. However, he himself feels lost. It’s why he is constantly bouncing between cliques. Growing up, Niall’s family moved around a lot. Whenever he finally got settled, his family would pick up and leave. This is what led to him becoming more distant, but creating this façade of friends. It’s not that he doesn’t consider anyone his friend; it’s just none of them are close friends.

 

He slowly crawls out of bed, grabbing whatever clothing off the floor and getting dressed. He ends up in a loose burgundy jumper and beige chinos. His dyed blonde hair is growing out, looking more brown that fades into blonde than blonde; he brushes his fingers through his hair, styling it messily before brushing his teeth and leaving his house.

 

As he makes his way down the street and towards the usual diner he, Zayn and Louis eat at, he wraps his light jacket around him tighter. It really isn’t the best jacket for the chilly early morning air, but Niall doesn’t give much of a shit.

 

Rocky’s Diner had been a local favourite since it opened in the late 70’s. It serves cheap food and has good beer. They never check IDs, so it is any underage kid’s dream. A quiet ding sounds as Niall makes his way through the door. He spots Zayn and Louis in their usual corner table and walks over to them.

 

“We already ordered your usual,” Zayn informs him as he sits down. Zayn is a pretty guy; he has high, sharp cheekbones, mocha skin, warm amber eyes lined with eyeliner and dark hair styled into a quiff. He has a ring on the left side of his bottom lip and a number of tattoos on his upper body mostly. Girls swoon over him all the time, but he is much too focused on his art, his one true passion. He is very talented, but Zayn thinks like none of his work has any feeling in it. He needs a muse.

 

“You sounded a little rough on the phone. Did I wake you?” Louis’s blue eyes are glowing with mischief. He, unlike Zayn, isn’t wearing eyeliner today (he rarely does these days, says he has “outgrown the phase”) but, like Zayn, he has a number of tattoos. His skin is like the perfect summer tan that every girl wants to have no matter the season; his hair is a caramel fringe that he sometimes styles into a quiff. Louis is well known around school for not only his looks, but for his occupation. He has some of the best drugs in this part of town and is always the supplier for parties.

 

“Fuck off,” Niall mutters. His mouth starts to water at the food being placed in front of him; bacon, sausage and eggs with toast is his favourite breakfast.

 

“So your surprise,” Louis starts after the waitress walks away, “there’s a party happening this weekend. Grimmy is hosting. A friend of his will be perfect for losing your v-card to. She’s really always up for some fun.” Niall wrinkles his nose at the idea.

 

“I don’t see why you are so much more concerned about my virginity than I am, honestly,” but Niall’s words fall on deaf ears. Another group of teens walk into the diner, sitting at their usual table just across the room. From Louis’s spot at the table, he has perfect view of them. He has perfect view of the majority of the restaurant, really. Niall thinks this is why he chose this to be their table a couple of years back. This other group isn’t always here when they are, but the times they’ve crossed paths Niall has noticed a change in Louis’s attention span.

 

Sitting at the other table is the sweet as a puppy (he sort of even looks like on), Liam, the pale blonde dancer, Sonya and, most importantly, Harry. Harry is easily picked out of a crowd because of his chocolate curls with a crown of flowers resting in them. He’s a quiet kid that Niall knows Louis’s been curious about for a while now. And by curious about, he means Louis has a raging hard-on for him. Zayn has yet to catch on, but Niall is sure the lad doesn’t notice much of anything; he’s always off in his own world. Niall wouldn’t be surprised if Zayn has no idea who Harry even is, the kid is a year below them in school after all.

 

“Be right back,” the blonde mumbles before getting up and walking over.

 

“Hey Niall!” Liam and Sonya greet. Harry gives a shy smile and a wave as a form of greeting.

 

“You lot going to Grimmy’s party this weekend?” he asks. The three nod in response. They make a little bit of small chat before Niall is heading back to his own table. Leaning close to Louis, he whispers in his ear “he’ll be at the party you know,” a smirk gracing his lips as Louis gives him a shocked look; however, he quickly masks it with his usual ‘I-really-don’t-give-a-fuck’ expression quickly.

 

*

 

The school year starts as it always does at Roundview College with Headmaster Rogers giving his beginning of the year pep talk. It’s basically a way for every overtired student to catch some extra sleep. Headmaster Rogers is middle aged with thinning light brown hair; he always wears cheap suits that he thinks makes him look super important and ooze authority or something. He goes on about success this time, about the importance of high grades and good work ethic. No one is paying attention, they’re all sure he knows it, yet he keeps going. Maybe he’s hoping that one day, someone will manage to stay awake for the entire thing.

 

Zayn is thinking of the painting he didn’t get to finish before the end of summer holidays when he spots him. This guy, he wishes he knew his name, has curly chocolate brown hair with a crown of small pink roses on top that make his lips look even pinker. He has a cherubic face and pale, SnowWhite-esque skin. He’s smiling at something someone around him said, dimples poking in his cheeks. Zayn is pretty sure he has just stumbled upon perfection. If only perfection had a name.

 

“Come on, mate,” Louis says getting up. The assembly must’ve ended while Zayn was staring; he hopes no one noticed. He and Louis make their way to their first classes of the day: his history, Louis’s English. They go their separate ways outside of the auditorium with quick waves before disappearing into the crowd.

 

Harry is glad the assembly is finally over. This guy, who based on his appearance, he believes was Zayn Malik, was sort of staring in his direction and it made him nervous. Harry knows the guy wasn’t look at him - because really, what is there to look at on Harry? – but it still made him feel fidgety.

 

“You ok?” Liam asks him. He nods his head and gives a small smile. Liam puts an arm around his shoulders as they walk to their English class. Harry quite likes English, reading and writing are some of his favourite things to do. This is why Harry is advancing a year for English. He had done so wonderfully last year, his teacher had recommended it.

 

The English classroom is already decently full when the two lads arrive, but thankfully Sonya saved them some seats by the windows. Harry loves sitting by windows, natural light being his favourite kind. He wishes England was sunnier.

 

“Don’t get too comfortable. I’ve made a seating plan,” Mrs. Green smiles up at the front. Everyone in the room groans. Mrs. Green is a young teacher, only about twenty-five years old. She’s originally from somewhere in Canada, but moved because of her marriage a few years ago. She’s an amazing teacher, but these seating plans are just so damn annoying.

 

Louis notices Harry sitting over by the windows with his friends, but when Mrs. Green announces there’ll be a seating plan, he finds himself hoping he and Harry are paired together. He can tell the boy is a quiet one, often sticking to Liam or Sonya like glue, and hopes that this class will give him a chance to get to know the boy.

 

As names are read off, Louis doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention. Harry, on the other hand, is nervous. He isn’t one to come out of his shell too easily and is praying that he gets to sit with Liam, Sonya or better yet, both of them. Sadly, the universe is not on his side as he is instructed to sit beside Louis Tomlinson. Harry is trying his best to remember whom that actually is when his eyes fall on the lad. He is going to be sitting by _the_ drug dealer of the area. The guy is good looking; Harry has a secret love of tattoos and piercings. He finds them ridiculously attractive, though knows he would never be able to pull them off himself. Louis looks amazing though, ink crawling up his arms and shiny metal pierced through his right eyebrow.

 

“Hey!” Louis greets him, “I’m Louis.”

 

“’m Harry,” the younger lad manages to mumble back despite his nerves. Louis gives him a warm smile that kind of makes his heart stop. It’s quite pretty; Harry thinks Louis should smile all the time. Mrs. Green starts going through their course outline; they’ll be studying some stories Harry quite likes such as _Cather in the Rey_ and _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_.

 

“I know these aren’t all typical novels to be studied, but I want you to have a wide range of stories to covered,” Mrs. Green explains, “Plus, honestly, some of the novels on the list are completely irrelevant to this day and age. I’m hoping these are books you’ll actually _want_ to read.” Harry thinks that being bumped up a year in English may be one of the best things that has ever happened to him; this year is going to be amazing.

 

“Have you read any of these before?” Louis asks him, gesturing to the list. Harry finds himself getting shy, but musters up enough courage to answer.

 

“I’ve read most of them,” he admits, “what about you?” Louis looks absolutely amazed at Harry’s answer, like the fact that someone actually reads books is abnormal. And truth is, Louis really is amazed. He’s never really known anyone who enjoys reading or, well, actually reads at all.

 

“None. I’m not much of a reader to be honest; I’m a good bullshitter though so my English mark tends to be quite decent when I actually do my work,” Louis gives a sly smile when he responds, and Harry gives a shy one back.

 

Louis thinks Harry is absolutely adorable, and his deep voice is music to the older lad’s ears. He wants to talk to this boy forever, but sadly the bell rings sooner than expected, and Harry disappears out into the hallway. Left on his desk though is a book: _The Boy in the Striped Pajamas_. Louis picks it up and slides it into his bag deciding he’ll either give it to Harry if he spots him around campus or just wait until their next English class to give it to him.

 

Louis does spot Harry at lunch. He’s sitting at a picnic table outside with Liam, looking at a textbook of some sort. He approaches cautiously, unsure if he’ll be welcomed or not. Harry seems to have liked him, but he could just be too shy to tell him to fuck off.

 

“Hey, Harry! I think you forgot this in English?” Louis holds the book out to the green eyed lad, who takes it from him with a relieved smile.

 

“Thanks, Louis. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find this. My stepdad wouldn’t be impressed if I had to go get another copy,” Harry frowns at the mention of his stepdad, but Louis knows it isn’t his place to push it. Yet. Not knowing what else to say, Louis tells Harry he’ll see him around before making his way over to Zayn, who is smoking over by a tree.

 

“You know that kid?” he asks gesturing in Harry and Liam’s general direction when Louis approaches him.

 

“The curly haired one? Yeah. His name is Harry; he’s in my English class,” Louis shrugs, trying to make it seem like no big deal. Niall seems to have caught onto his interest in the boy; he doesn’t need Zayn to figure it out too.

 

“He’s not in our year?”

 

“Nope,” Niall’s Irish accent joins the conversation. He seems to have been listening for the majority of it. “He’s a year below, just smart is all.” Zayn gives a nonchalant nod before continuing to smoke his cigarette, seeming to be in thought about something. No one ever really knows what goes through Zayn’s mind; people really only get a glimpse when he’s seriously stoned and is feeling philosophical.

 

Zayn smokes his cigarette with a lot more focus than he normally would mainly to contain the smile wanting to make its way onto his lips. Perfection finally has a name: Harry.


	2. Louis

chapter two: Louis

 

Saturday is a big day for Louis: the first party of the school year. However, he first has to attend his ten-year-old sister’s piano recital that afternoon. Fiona has been talking about it non stop since last weekend, and he isn’t about to let his sister down. Not many people get to see this side of Louis, but he can’t let them see it. He’s the school’s drug dealer; he’s got to keep some sort of tough demeanor or no one will take him seriously. Then any of those little shits in other years wanting to replace him could easily do so.

 

He doesn’t really fit in at the piano recital. The crowd is full of parents swooning over their perfect children, dressed in semi-formal clothing like this is actually a huge event and not just some way for them to show off their children’s talent. Louis didn’t dress up much for the event; he still has his dark skinny jeans on, but rather than wearing a band tee or some other graphic tee, he opted for a loose knitted charcoal grey jumper. Fiona had requested he dress “nicely,” and although he pouted, he didn’t want to upset his sister on a day that is so important to her.

 

After what feels like hours of sitting through other children play, his sister’s time finally comes. Louis may be a little biased, but he is positive that his sister is the most amazing performance of the afternoon. She’s been working on her song selection all summer, having picked a song that is a little more challenging than what she normally plays. She hits every key perfectly; Louis cannot contain the smile that lights up his entire face when she finishes. Once the recital is over, and his sister is finally free to go, Louis takes her out for ice cream.

 

“You were absolutely amazing, Fiona. I’m really proud of you,” Louis beams at her from across the table.

 

“Thanks,” his sister grins, “I just wish mum and Harry could’ve been there too.” Their parents got divorced about six years back, and since then their mother has been supporting them by going back to work full-time as a nurse at the hospital. She often picks up extra shifts, trying to make as much money as possible to support her and her four children.

 

“Harry?” Louis asks; Fiona has never mentioned the name before. At least, not while he has been around.

 

“He is my out-of-class teacher I usually work with on Saturdays,” Fiona explains, “I think he is about your age. He would’ve come, but his sister has come back from uni to pick up some more stuff so he wanted to see her. He says he’ll come to my next recital though.” Fiona smiles brightly. Louis wonders if she has a little childish crush on whoever this Harry guy is. If he is anything like the Harry Louis currently has his eyes on, he doesn’t blame her one bit.

 

Louis and Fiona arrive to a quiet house; their mother being at work and Aidan and Luke, their five-year-old twin brothers, are over at the neighbours. The townhouse they live in is really too small for the family of five; the twins’ toys are everywhere as are piles of folded laundry that has yet to be put away. When everyone is home, it’s almost like they’re stepping on each other’s toes. Louis is thankful that he has his own room to get away to, even if it’s the size of a shoebox.

 

At around five o’clock, Fiona buggers off to a friend’s house for a sleepover. Louis leaves shortly after, heading over to Zayn’s. Zayn has been living on his own since his parents moved to America last summer but insisted that the boy finish his education in England. This set up works amazingly, as it allows for Louis to produce more drugs for his business. He sells drugs to help support his family, though his mother doesn’t know. He makes sure to mix and package everything when she’s at work and the kids are busy. He does a lot of this at Zayn’s now, seeing as there aren’t parents or young children around to catch him.

 

“Hey, mate,” Zayn answers the door looking absolutely perfect in tight jeans and a mesh shirt that would look flaming gay on anyone else but just looks cool on him. The mesh allows for a distorted view of the many tattoos Zayn has, most of which he designed himself. Louis is a little envious of his friend’s gift in artistry, not that he would ever admit to it. Sure, he’ll compliment Zayn’s work, but he has never flat out said “I wish I had your talent” or anything like that.

 

Louis spends the next few hours prepping the last batch of drugs for Grimmy’s party that evening. There is going to be a large number of people there, he needs to make sure he’s got plenty of merchandise to go around. At about quarter to eight, Zayn and Louis decide to make their way over to Grimmy’s. Louis likes to get to parties a little early to maximize his selling window. If he arrives too late, everyone will already be fucked up on someone else’s drugs.

 

An hour or so after arriving, Louis and Zayn track Niall down needing to introduce him to girl they told him about earlier in the week.

 

“Tonight’s the night! Our baby is going to lose his virginity; they grow up so fast,” Louis jokes with Zayn as Niall frowns and follows them towards a brunette. The girl is quite pretty with loosely curled dark brown hair, brown eyes with smokey eye make up and a delicate face. She’s wearing short shorts with a t-shirt and black combat boots. The t-shirt is white with a black image of Kate Moss on it, though it looks as though the image is running down the shirt like rain on a window; “COCAINE” is written across the top with the “C” being styled like the Chanel logo.

 

“Niall, meet Cher,” Zayn introduces the two.

 

“Hello,” Cher greets, “so you’re the guy I’m supposed to fuck tonight?” Niall almost chokes on his own spit at her words, much to Louis’s amusement. He passes Cher a few pills, letting her know that there’s more to come once the deed is done. She takes them greedily and pops a couple in her mouth; Cher loves pills more than anything in this world.

 

Louis and Zayn leave the two of them to “get comfortable.” Niall tries to come up with something to talk about with Cher, but he’s honestly so clueless. He’s looking at Cher and thinking if he can figure out what to say to her, he might actually want to take her out on a date.

 

They make their way out to the backyard, Cher wanting to enjoy the last bit of sunlight for the day. The yard is quieter, which Niall likes. Cher pulls Niall over to some blankets that were laid out, sort of falling onto one and dragging Niall with her.

 

“Let’s watch the clouds while we can,” she says. Niall agrees and they spend the hour or so left of sun pointing out shapes in the clouds and giggling. The Irish lad can’t help but imagine how awesome this must be for Cher, given that she’s high as a kite.

 

“If you’re going to fuck me, you’ll want to do it soon,” she suddenly comments.

 

“What? Why?” Nialls asks, worried look on his face. She explains that all the pills are beginning to make her feel sleepy. The blonde tells her it’s fine.

 

“To be honest, I’d rather take you out for dinner. If you want to, that is,” he can feel himself blushing as he admits this. Cher looks at him with fondness in her eyes.

 

“That’d be really sweet,” she smiles, “you’re cute, Niall.” But then her eyes get heavy and she falls asleep. Niall knows Zayn and Louis will be annoyed with him, but he doesn’t care. He’s barely tipsy; he’s not going to fuck some girl who is out of her mind. He’s better than that.

 

*

 

By eleven, Louis has sold a lot of his stock and decides to reward himself with a hit of ecstasy. He pulls out a bright yellow pill stamped with his logo, a simple skull, and pops it in his mouth. He feels the buzz of the pill work with the alcohol already in his system and it feels great.

 

“Louis?” he hears the voice of an angel say his name. He turns to see Harry dressed in a white t-shirt that sticks to his sweaty frame, skinny jeans and old dark coloured – maybe navy blue? – converse. A white daisy crown sits on his head; his cheeks are flushed red from the heat, or maybe the alcohol – Louis can tell the boy is drunk.

 

“Hey, Harry! You having fun?” Louis asks, moving closer to the boy so they can actually talk to each other over the thumping dubstep remix of a Britney song.

 

“Yeahh,” Harry slurs out, “you have anything left?” Louis wants to say no, to keep Harry unspoiled by drugs, but then decides it’s better he gives it to Harry than someone else. He doesn’t lace his drugs with anything more than what should be there; the last thing he wants is for Harry to get a million times more fucked up than intended.

 

“Here,” Louis passes him an ecstasy pill, only this one is a bright green. It makes Louis think of Harry’s eyes, which are currently glazed over. “This one is on me, yeah?”

 

Harry grins at him, dimples appearing on his cheeks. Louis could actually die from the adorableness that is Harry Styles. The younger lad dry swallows the pill and closes his eyes, like he can already feel the drug flowing through his blood stream.

 

Louis isn’t sure how it happens, but he and Harry are now dancing impossibly close to each other, hips moving together perfectly in sync. Louis’s head feels dizzy, Harry’s backside pushed right up to him like this, but he doesn’t want the lad to move away. His mind tunes everything else going on around them out, simply focusing on him and Harry. It’s all too much and not enough, and before Louis can really think it all through, he’s guiding Harry into an empty room.

 

Harry gasps when Louis pushes him up against the now shut and locked door and presses bruising kisses onto his exposed collar bone. Louis’s lips travel up Harry’s neck before meeting the younger lad’s plump, pink lips. Harry whimpers into Louis’s mouth and allows the tattooed boy’s tongue to enter his mouth when it slides against his lower lip. They make out against the door for a few minutes before stumbling their way over to the bed.

 

“Grimmy will be so pissed if we make a mess of the bed,” Harry laughs as Louis slips his hands underneath his t-shirt. Louis smirks, removing Harry’s shirt and then his own. The cool air of the bedroom feels like Antarctica compared to the main room, a lovely and welcomed change. Louis works at slipping Harry’s jeans and boxers off, wanting to expose as much of the milky skin as possible.

 

“Then I’ll just have to make sure I swallow, yeah?” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear before working his way down the long, lanky body lying underneath him. Harry shivers, watching Louis intently. Louis, knowing that the work he does with his mouth is to die for, deep throats Harry. The curly haired boy’s hips buck a couple of times, so Louis has to hold him down as his cheeks hallow. When Harry comes, Louis’s name is on his lips, and Louis swallows every drop of come.

 

“Alright?” the blue eyed boy asks, his fingers gently tracing shapes into Harry’s defined stomach. Harry nods and moves to return this favour for Louis, who stops him.

 

“You don’t want anything?” Harry looks confused and almost hurt.

 

“Not tonight. Tonight’s for you, mmk?” Louis says placing a kiss on top of the lad’s curly mop of hair. Harry blushes at Louis’s words, which makes the older boy wonder if Harry’s ever had someone spoil and take care of him. As much as the thought of Harry not being treated like he deserves saddens Louis, he kind of likes the idea of being the first to take care of him. Louis has always taken care of others; it’s just in his nature. The cherubic boy cuddling into his side is no exception to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left kudos so far <3


	3. Liam & Sonya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of flash backs in this chapter. They are written in past tense, italics and separated with “+.”

chapter three: Liam & Sonya

 

Being in love is hard. Especially when said person you love is in love with, and married to, someone else. However, that doesn’t stop Liam’s mind from wandering, dreaming of a different reality where this could actually happen.

 

When Liam first had Laura – Mrs. Green – as his English teacher last year, he thought she was extremely attractive. She has sparkling blue eyes and straight, long, silky looking light brown hair that she normally styles in fun braids, buns or high ponytails. Over the course of the year, Liam found himself wishing he and Laura could be more than just student and teacher. Except, he knows this will never happen: Laura is responsible and committed to her husband. She’s not going to throw her life away for some seventeen-year-old student of hers. So for now, Liam will just have to admire and dream.

 

“Essays are due next week on Tuesday!” Laura shouts over the bell. Everyone quickly packs up their stuff and exits into the bustling, busy hallway. Harry’s left the room before Liam again, which he’s been doing since Grimmy’s party a couple of weeks ago. Liam’s not really sure what happened, but he thinks it must be a sort of positive thing. Harry still comes to breakfast with him and Sonya when they go; he just seems to be branching out now, which Sonya and him have been trying to get Harry to do for a while now – not because they don’t like him or don’t want him around, but because they know it’ll be good for Harry to have people besides them.

 

Liam wanders around to his morning classes, only half paying attention in them. School is easy for Liam. He gets good grades without trying; he could probably pass with fairly high marks without even attending class. Everyone’s envious of him for his mind and always go on about how he’ll do such great things with his life. Truth is, Liam has no idea what he is doing. He’s taking as wide a range of courses as he can, hoping to keep doors open for university, but he doesn’t have any goals for himself. He’s absolutely terrified of being finished secondary school because once it is finished his life will not longer be planned out for him. Though this is something Liam likes to push to the back of his mind and ignore until the day comes where he can’t anymore. He isn’t looking forward to that day.

 

“Hey Li,” Harry greets him at lunch. Liam looks up from his joined hands resting on the table to his friend, a small smile making its way onto his face.

 

“Hey Harry! How was your morning?” he asks. Harry shrugs and tells him it really wasn’t anything special. Liam nods, the same goes for his morning. Liam notices Harry has nothing to eat and gives the boy his apple. He knows the younger boy only stops eating when he’s been having issues at home. Normally, this wouldn’t be something Liam brings up at lunch, as Sonya, who is suspicious but doesn’t know about Harry’s home situation, is with them. But Sonya isn’t joining them for lunch today; she’s on a field trip with her dance class to the ballet for the afternoon.

 

“Is Richard drinking again?” Liam asks, frown on his face. Harry nods and takes a bite of the apple he just received.

 

“Spent most of the grocery money on booze. I’m going to need to get a job if he keeps this up,” Harry admits. Liam knows Harry hates talking about his stepdad, that he is completely embarrassed by him. The older lad is positive he wouldn’t know about Harry’s home life had it not been for that one night just before the end of last school year.

 

+

 

_Liam had been up late reviewing for the upcoming exams. He knew he could do well on the exams without studying, but he wanted to do better than well: he needed the highest grades in everything in order to stay appealing to universities. He wasn’t sure what the time was at this point; he had yet to change the time of the clock on his desk since the power outage last month (and according to it, it was half one in the afternoon. Definitely incorrect.) His phone buzzed, but Liam thought maybe he had only been hearing things. His phone then started buzzing repeatedly: he was getting a phone call._

_“Hello?” He answered not having checked to see who it was that was calling. It may have been a good idea to do that though because, honestly, who would be calling him at such an hour at night? Grimmy’s party wasn’t for a few days, so this wasn’t a drunken phone call._

_“Liam,” Harry sounded completely broken like they way he had sounded when his mother passed. Liam froze, unable to respond._

_“Liam? Please tell me you’re there,” Harry’s pleading voice came out of the receiver, “I need your help. I only trust you.” And, shit, if it wasn’t obvious enough that this was serious, that sealed it._

_“What’s wrong, Haz?” Liam finally found his voice. Harry breathed out a small sigh of relief before talking again._

_“He went too far tonight; I had to get out. My ribs, they hurt so much, Li.” Harry had been coming to school with some pretty bad bruising lately, but he always had an excuse. The boy was clumsy and had been bullied in the past. It enraged Liam to see his friend in such a way, but Harry had refused to give any names or details._

_“Do you need me to come get you?” Liam asked. Harry told him his location. Five minutes later, Liam was at the library helping Harry into his car. When they both returned back to Liam’s, the boy realized there were way to many bruises for this to be clumsy accidents and the odd bully. Harry had numerous bruises all over his body, a number of them different colours due to their different stages in healing._

_“Who the fuck did this?” Liam almost whimpered at the sight in front of him. How the fuck had he not thought maybe something wasn’t quite right with all of Harry’s stories? What was_ wrong _with him? Harry explained that he’d been daydreaming again; how he wouldn’t do well on exams if he didn’t study; how angry Richard had been. He sounded almost as if he thought he deserved this. Liam wanted to puke._

_“Hazza, you’re ok. I’ll help you study. How about I get you some pain meds and then we get some sleep, ok?” The curly haired boy was too exhausted to protest anything, and followed Liam’s words._

_The next morning, Liam’s mother was quite shocked with Harry’s state and presence in general, but she hardly saw any of it. She also chose not to ask questions because it was Harry, and he randomly showed up sometimes anyways. At Harry’s request, Liam had loaned him some clothing that would cover the majority of the bruises. Liam has been helping Harry cover up a lot since then, despite how wrong he knew it was._

+

 

“You can come crash at my place if needed. Mum won’t mind,” Liam offers but the curly haired boy shakes his head saying it’ll only make it worse. Liam wishes he could help Harry, but he’s clueless about what to do. If he tells, Harry will be taken away and sent off to some foster home God knows where, which would make Harry’s life even harder. But not telling feels just as wrong.

 

“Whatever you think is best, Haz,” Liam settles on saying, patting the younger boy on the back. “I’ll just pack some extra food for lunch, yeah?” Harry grins at him thankfully.

 

“You’re the best, Li.”

 

After school, Liam heads to the track. He’s been on the track team for a number of years now, and he’s managed to become one of the top members. He’s broken a few records, which his coaches still gloat about. But Liam isn’t on the track team to be number one or to have his talent shoved in people’s faces; he does simply because he loves running. Running gives him time to clear his mind, sort all his thoughts out; it allows him to forget about everything going on around him.

 

At five o’clock, his coach tells him to stretch and go home. He’s exhausted by the time he makes it back, setting his backpack down by the front door. His parents aren’t home; both of them work fulltime as a means of assurance. The recession years back had hit them hard, and they never want to relive that again. Liam manages to muster up the energy to boil up some hot dogs for dinner, but he heads to bed right after despite it being so early in the evening. He really doesn’t feel like doing much tonight.

 

*

 

_Five, six, seven, eight._

 

Dance has been the center of Sonya’s world since her first ballet lesson as a toddler. It is the one thing in her life that she has never lost passion for. It makes her feel alive, brings her moods up when she is feeling down. Sonya would be nowhere without dance.

 

When she moved to Bristol from Reykjavik at age ten, she was absolutely terrified about fitting in. She spoke English well at the age that was no concern of hers; however, she did have quite the accent. Dance is what kept her grounded through the big move and what led to her making many of the friends she has now.

 

But dance isn’t helping her right now. She’s been working on this routine for what feels like hours trying to get the image of the fondness in Liam’s eyes that he gets whenever he looks at their English teacher. It’s something that no one but Liam’s closest friends would notice, and it’s all Sonya’s been able to think about since the beginning of the school year. He looks at Mrs. Green the way Sonya dreams he would look at her.

 

+

 

_Liam was the first friend Sonya made when she moved. The Payne’s had come over to welcome their new neighbours with bright smiles and a warm, freshly baked pie. Sonya and Liam clicked instantly; he was far too excited to play prince and princess with her and reenact some Disney moments. He managed to find a tiara packed in all of the boxes in her bedroom and placed on top of her pale blonde hair. It was that afternoon that Sonya got her first kiss, and it was that afternoon she fell for Liam._

 

+

 

Sonya finishes up at the dance studio, still not quite happy with her routine. Thankfully it’s something she is just doing for fun (and as a distraction), so she can work on it as long as she needs. Unfortunately when she arrives home, her mother, Anita, has already come back from work.

 

“Sonya! You’re only getting home from the dance studio now? You need to focus more of your time on your studies; medical school is not going to let you in based on your dancing skills,” her mother scolds. Sonya’s parents have been ragging on her for five years to become a doctor. They’ve basically planned her entire life out for her, and she really wants nothing to do with it. She wants to do something with dance. Dancing professionally for a company would be the absolute dream, but she would be perfectly happy teaching dance: being able to provide children the opportunity to experience the joys of dancing would warm her to the core.

 

When Anita finally finishes scolding her, Sonya rushes upstairs to shower and study. Sonya’s grades are quite good, not medical school good, but still high enough to get into university. She plans to get into education at a university far away from here and basically cutting everyone off. She loves her friends and family, she really does, but as selfish as it is, she thinks a fresh start will be best for her.

 

At five thirty the next morning, Sonya gets up to head to the dance studio for an early morning practice. She ties her long pale blonde hair up into a messy bun, slips on some black leggings and a loose, sky blue jumper with a light grey tank top underneath. However, when she gets to the studio, her entrance is rejected.

 

“I’m sorry, Sonya, but your membership was restricted,” Emily, the receptionist, explains. Confused, Sonya returns home to find her mother sitting at the breakfast table sipping her morning tea.

 

“I want your grades higher before giving you back full membership to your club,” Anita informs her daughter before flicking on the tiny kitchen TV to watch the news. Sonya swallows her anger, decides that now is really not the time to fight. She’ll get her grades up and be back in the studio soon.

 

*

 

Morning comes far too soon. Liam groans at the sound of his alarm, hitting snooze multiple times. He really wishes summer hadn’t ended. His phone has multiple messages waiting; the one that catches his attention is from Harry.

 

Harry: It got bad again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure dance studios don’t actually work like a messed up gym membership, but for the sake of the story they do :P


	4. Cher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on this instead of studying for midterms. Oops :P  
> I tried multiple times to lengthen this one, which I did manage to do, but not quite as much as I would've liked.

chapter four: Cher

 

“Cher! Get up,” Trent yells from downstairs. Cher gets up from her mattress on the floor, slipping on her favourite baggy hoodie. Her room isn’t much; the walls a bare and an ugly reddish-purple colour that makes the tiny bedroom seem even smaller. There’s a wardrobe in the corner that is barely able to close from all the clothes Cher has managed to get mainly at thrift shops over the years.

 

She sees her mother sleeping on the couch when she gets downstairs; she must’ve gotten home from work very late last night given that she is sleeping through all of Trent’s noise. Cher’s mother, Georgia, is a prostitute, and Trent is the pimp that accidently knocked her up. That’s how Cher came to be: not out of love, but what was supposed to be a one-time thing.

 

Sometimes, Cher is worried that Trent will eventually force her into the business. He forced her to stop her schooling as soon as it was possible and has done nothing but encourage her downward spiral. Sometimes, she thinks he’s doing this so when she finally gets cut off, she’ll have no choice but to work like her mother. He’s never allowed her to call him names like father or dad; he’s always been Trent, which creates almost a barrier between them. It’s almost as though he is this guy who happens to live with her and her mom rather than her actual father.

 

However, Cher doesn’t really mind; there are times where she likes to pretend Trent isn’t her father. She likes to imagine her father was a good-looking man, clean cut with a secret meaningful tattoo that he can easily hide under his suits and business attire. Nothing like Trent with his sleeves of poorly done tattoos, a balding head that he always hides under a baseball cap and wiry beard. She likes to pretend her father was someone noble and that he didn’t just leave her and her mother but died in a horrible accident. It seems morbid, but it helps Cher to feel less rejected.

 

She eats bland oatmeal for breakfast before heading out to walk around the city. Whenever Cher is feeling lost, she enjoys actually getting lost. It allows for her to have a distraction from all the thoughts in her head, as she must focus to get to wherever she needs to be at the end of the day. Lately, she’s been thinking a lot about what she wants to do with her life. At this rate, she’s going nowhere, which is terrifying. She thinks it’s time for her to go back to school but knows Trent would never allow it, not wanting to spend more money on her than necessary. She thinks a lot about checking into rehab, getting herself away from Trent and her mother, and getting clean.

 

But being clean means being aware of everything around her, and Cher much prefers the cloud being high gives her. She doesn’t want to think about Trent or her mother, or becoming just like her mother, whose life is almost described to a tee in that song Cher has heard around, “The A Team” or something like that.

 

She would rather block those thoughts out and just enjoy the little she has.

 

*

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t sleep with Cher,” Louis shakes his head as he, Zayn and Niall sit around their table at Rocky’s. Niall is about ready to waste his precious breakfast and throw it at the caramel haired boy. He’s already explained that he is never going to take advantage of someone so high, but apparently Louis is a fucking pig or something.

 

“This is none of your fucking concern, Louis. Now drop the bloody topic,” the Irish lad’s tone is icy and shuts Louis right up. The three boys eat in silence for a couple minutes before Zayn decides to start a conversation up again.

 

“So how’s Harry doing, Lou? You haven’t mentioned him lately,” Zayn asks. He may or may not be asking just to hear about the curly haired boy that’s been inspiring him lately rather than out of concern for Louis’s friendship with said boy. Louis frowns, looking down at his meal.

 

“Haven’t heard from him for a bit, to be honest. Says he needs to focus on his coursework.”  It’s easy to read on the blue-eyed boy’s face that he really doesn’t believe the excuse for a minute. They all know there’s got to be more to this; Harry had shown up at school with a black eye at the beginning of the week, and Louis has been eyeing the boy worriedly since. However, there’s a silent agreement at the table to not bring up Harry again. In addition to Niall’s virginity.

 

*

 

There’s a thick haze in the house; simply breathing the air could get you high. Cher isn’t sure how many pills she’s taken, how many grams she’s smoked, but she really doesn’t care. This high is beautiful; it’s the high that gives her the images of _him_.

 

Ever since Grimmy’s party a few weeks ago, Cher has been on the hunt for a pair of shining, kind blue eyes. She looks for them everywhere she goes, but can never find them. Every pair of eyes she finds always has something wrong with it: wrong colour, too cold, too lustful. She just wants to have someone look at her like she’s human and not something to fuck and leave behind. She wishes she could remember the boy with the eyes; no one has ever looked at her like he did with such compassion. He visits her only when she’s high or in her dreams, but by morning she’s forgotten again. Sometimes, she fears that he is just a figment of her imagination or a hallucination from a trip.

 

The party tonight is wild; the air thick with the smell of sweat, smoke and sex. It’s getting to be that time of night where Cher gives up on finding the blue eyes of her dreams and settles for the first pair she finds. Tonight, she meets a tall, average looking guy with glazed over hazel eyes. They’re not blue, but Cher’s lonely and just needs to be taken care of for the night.

 

The sunlight is streaming into the unfamiliar bedroom when Cher wakes up. Slowly, she makes her way out from under the covers and slips her clothes from last night back on. Her head is pounding, and all she wants is to go home.

 

“So the slut’s returned?” Trent questions when she walks through the door. Cher will never admit this, but comments like that absolutely destroy her. She doesn’t mean to be a slut; she wants attention, love and to be cared for. Sex is the only kind she’s able to obtain the feeling of all of that. No one looks twice at Cher; they just peg her as some drug addicted whore who will be dead before she turns thirty.

 

Once in her room, she changes into jeans and a loose, freyed black-with-large-yellow-hearts patterned jumper before going out again. She does nothing for her hair except putting it into a ponytail. Her make-up she leaves smudged and messy on her face.

 

She’s walking past the college, Roundview or whatever the fuck it’s called, when she hears a sound the stops her dead in her tracks. Laughter floats through the air; it’s the warmest sound Cher has ever heard in her entire life. It’s the kind of laugh that wraps you in a hug; the kind you want to hear on repeat for the rest of your life.

 

“Hey, Cher!” She hears what sounds like Zayn calling her name. She turns to face the mocha skinned lad, grin plastered on his face.

 

“I know you and Niall never did fuck at Grimmy’s party. He’s just over with Louis though. Wanna surprise him?” Zayn has got a flash of mischief in his eyes. She perks right up at the mention of Grimmy’s because Niall is such a lovely name, and if he has blue eyes she might actually cry out of happiness. She follows Zayn down the side of one of the college buildings to see Louis smoking, chatting with a blonde who lets out the warm laugh she had heard just minutes earlier. Cher is fighting a smile as the two lads turn at the sound of Zayn’s voice. She isn’t sure what he said – most likely a greeting of some sort. She is too focused on the blonde boy.

 

Niall looks over, and Cher feels her heart skip a beat. The blue eyes she’s been searching for are right in front of her, and the smile she has been fighting finally appears. Later, she’ll be embarrassed about how much of a wreck she looks, but for now, she enjoys the moment.


	5. Harry

chapter five: Harry

 

The bruises are fading now; it has been a few weeks since Harry received them. His stepdad had been so angry when he caught him and Louis on the front porch. The worst part is Harry had had a bad feeling about it. He knew he shouldn’t have let Louis walk him home and kiss him good night. It was all a disaster waiting to happen, and Harry let it.

 

Like Richard told him to, Harry has been staying away from Louis. His stepdad had even called the school and had Harry’s seat in English changed. He would’ve switched Harry into an entirely different English class if he could have. Harry hates this; Louis is the best thing to ever happen to him. Louis brought light into Harry’s pit of darkness, and now Richard ruined everything.

 

Harry slips his flower crown for the day on; it’s made of deep red roses, and he has been wearing it a lot lately. They’re the same kind of flowers that were used at his parents’ funerals. He is mourning the loss of a friendship that was destroyed before it even had a chance to fully bloom.

 

It’s Saturday and Harry’s first day back at volunteering at Miss. Ferrero’s piano school. He had spoken to her and arranged for him to take a few weeks off as to not worry the kids with his black eye. He could tell she didn’t believe his story about how he got it, but she let it slide anyways, which is good. The fewer questions he gets asked, the better it will be for him.

 

It’s a fifteen-minute bus ride from the bus stop near Harry’s house to the piano school, which is actually just the music room of a secondary school that Miss. Ferrero has been fortunate enough to be allowed to use. Today he’ll be helping one of his favourite students: Fiona. She is ten years old and as in love with piano as Harry remembers being at that age. She is also always willing to challenge herself, which is quickly turning her into a prodigy.

 

“Harry!” Fiona greets him when he enters the room. Her blue eyes light up at the sight of her out-of-class instructor. Miss. Ferrero understands that some children don’t get to practice outside of class as much as they would like, so she started this volunteer program that gives some of her more experienced students, such as Harry, an opportunity to work with the less experienced ones.

 

Fiona runs up and gives Harry a hug, telling him she is glad he is feeling better. Harry thanks her and asks her what she has been working on while he has been away.

 

“Sad by Maroon 5,” the child smiles proudly. They practice on the song for the hour and a half Fiona is scheduled for; they work out some spots she has trouble with fingering and getting the sound smoother. By the end, she is quite satisfied with herself and is begging that Harry let her show her brother when he comes to pick her up in a few minutes.

 

“And you could sing the song, Harry?!” she exclaims. “It really does help me play when you’re singing the words.” Harry bites his lip, unsure if he wants to sing in front of a stranger. Singing in front of the children the odd time to when he really likes the song is one thing, but actually singing in a performance type way, even if it’s for one person, makes Harry nervous.

 

“He’s super nice, I promise! And you’re so talented. Please, please, please, Harry?” Fiona pouts, which almost reminds Harry of Louis and, fuck, before he can really think it through he’s agreeing to singing while Fiona plays the song when her brother arrives. She’s smiling, clapping and cheering for literally an entire minute before said brother walks into the room. Harry almost falls over when he sees that Fiona’s brother is, in fact, Louis Tomlinson. The guy he was just thinking of a couple minutes ago. The guy he has been instructed to avoid and has been avoiding since. The curly haired boy doesn’t register the exchange between brother and sister: the only thing running through his mind is oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _fuck_.

 

“Ready, Harry?” Fiona asks from the piano bench. Louis is eyeing him worriedly. Harry can tell he is pretending not stare at the faded bruises.

 

“I guess so,” Harry clears his throat as Fiona starts to play. She makes only a couple of minor mistakes when she plays, though to an untrained ear they’re really not that noticeable. Harry can feel a blush on his cheeks, but thankfully Louis is more focused on his sister. While Fiona’s grabbing her stuff from the back room, Louis takes the opportunity to talk to Harry.

 

“What happened?” he asks. His hand is reaching as if to touch Harry, but he seems to think better of it and put it back down at his side. Harry tells him the same bullshit he’s been telling everyone else: he fell while out on a walk, and he is fine. Louis gives him a look that asks what really happened. Harry shakes his head, looking anywhere but Louis’s pleading eyes. Fiona returns soon after that, ultimately ending this exchange, and then she and Louis are gone. Harry works with other students the rest of the day to make up for hours lost in previous weeks.

 

*

 

Later that night, Harry stares at himself in the mirror and mentally points out every flaw he sees, convincing himself that whatever he had with Louis meant nothing to the other boy. Because what does Harry have that someone else doesn’t? Nothing. He’s too thin and lanky; he’s got girly plump lips, wild curls and wears flower crowns. He’s got so much shit on his plate that even if he did find someone that looked past all his weird physical attributes, they would run for the hills once they realized how fucked up he really is.

 

Richard calls him a pathetic little fag, and Harry thinks he’s right.

 

Harry wakes up Sunday morning with puffy eyes from crying himself to sleep the night before. He feels like absolute shit and has no idea what to do about it. He remembers feeling lost like this when his mother passed, but his sister helped him get through it all. Except Harry’s sister is in her second year of university in London now: he hasn’t seen her since the beginning of the school year. He decides he’ll find refuge at Liam’s place; it isn’t too far away. He could even walk. Harry leaves a note on the kitchen table saying where he is going, hoping that his stepdad won’t mind.

 

On his way to Liam’s, the Harry sees who he thinks is Mrs. Green behind the wheel of car heading the opposite direction of him. He shakes his head, concluding he must just be seeing things before making his way up the front steps of the Payne residence. Almost like he is psychic, Liam answers the door just as Harry is about to knock.

 

“Hey Harry!” Liam greets, “Let’s go for walk, yeah?” Liam’s already dressed in blue jeans and a coat, part of a forest green sweater visible at the base of his neck. The slightly younger lad agrees, and the two head towards the park. The park isn’t anything special; if anything, it is a danger. The playground is in desperate need of repairs, and there are certain areas just littered with used needles and whatnot left by junkies. Liam and Harry sit across from each other at a picnic table. Harry notices, now that they’re sitting still, that Liam has quite the glow about him. Harry wonders who it is that has Liam glowing but decides not to ask. For some reason this also makes Harry wonder if he ever glowed like that when he was around Louis.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you to open up to me about this, but I can’t anymore,” Liam says after a couple minutes of silence, “what happened?” Harry has been waiting for this to come. No way could he send Liam a text saying it got bad again, show up to school with bruises and some bullshit excuse and not expect to have to talk to his friend about it. Harry tells him that he and Louis had been sort of going out (he isn’t quite sure exactly what it was, they never discussed labels); they kissed, held hands and went places. The one night Harry finally let his guard down was the night Richard caught them kissing on the front porch. Richard seems to have the mentality that gay can be beaten out, and so here Harry is now.

 

“Richard can’t control you like this, Harry! If you want to see Louis, you should. Fuck that old pig,” Liam’s face is hard, and his brown eyes are shining with anger. Harry feels his eyes welling up because Richard really _can_ control him like this.

 

“If he goes after Louis, I would never be able to live with myself,” the curly haired boy confesses. Liam’s face softens then. Since Harry’s mother died a few years ago, Richard hasn’t trusted other people much. Liam is sure the only reason Harry is still allowed to hang out with him and Sonya is because they knew him years before his mother’s death. The brown-eyed boy thinks Richard sees Harry as both an everyday reminder of his dead wife, but also the only part of her he has left. It’s like he never wants his stepson around, but at the same time is terrified of him leaving. Liam hates to admit it, but Richard really isn’t all that bad. When he is sober, that is. He is thoughtful and takes wonderful care of Harry then – even buys him a number of real-looking-but-actually-fake flower crowns since he knows how much Harry loves them. But Richard is drunk most days; therefore, Harry is treated like shit most days.

 

The two lads don’t talk about Richard again. Instead, they continue walking down the street until they reach the small movie theatre that only shows a movie or two at a time. Today, it’s showing some French film about a woman who gets pregnant by her short-time boyfriend and how their life changes from then to after the baby. It’s cute, sad, kind of strange, and way too long, but the lads are fine with the distraction. The movie ends in the early evening, and Harry decides he should go home. Liam offers to walk him, but Harry tells him it’s fine; the two boys go their separate ways.

 

“Where the fuck have you been, boy?” Richard snarls.

 

“Liam’s? I left a note on the-“

 

“I called Liam’s! His mother said you two went out. Not to see that punk fag of yours, I hope.” Harry shakes his head, promising he was only with Liam. But of course, Richard doesn’t believe him, which the slap to his face mid-explanation tells him. The teen can’t help it then, his eyes well up and fat tears stream down his cheeks like a monsoon. This seems to strike a chord with Richard, because suddenly the man’s anger is gone, and he gently tugs Harry towards the couch. He rubs soothing circles on Harry’s back. All Harry can smell is the booze in the man’s breath as he whispers that things will get better, and all they have to do is stick together.

 

Harry has heard this all before, and he knows it will never get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and bookmarking!  
> Also! How is everyone liking the new single? Personally, I have Story of My Life on repeat! <3


	6. Niall

chapter six: Niall

 

It’s not that Niall doesn’t want to be on this class trip to Berlin, but he misses Cher; the two have been almost inseparable since meeting again a couple weeks back. However, history requires him to be here and going through the many museums Berlin has. Niall isn’t much of a museum guy, but he is enjoying his time going through with his friends. Louis has been so down lately, so Niall has made it his goal to cheer his friend up. Ever since he and Cher got together, the blonde boy has been putting in more effort to get closer to his friends. If his parents tell him they’re moving again, he will put his foot down this time and do everything in his power to stay where they currently are.

 

The group returns to their hotel after a day on Museum Island. Niall follows Louis and Zayn to their hotel room. The hotel rooms are nothing special: dark, ugly patterned carpeting; neutral coloured walls with one painting hanging over a dresser; two twin beds side-by-side with a bedside table between them. Zayn and Louis head out onto the balcony, lighting up cigarettes. The room is only on the third floor, so there isn’t much of a view. However, there is a small pub across the street, and the boys like people watching from above. There’s an aura of gloom that hangs around Louis like the smoke he’s breathing out of his pretty mouth. Niall hates seeing the normally cheery lad this way: it almost feels unnatural.

 

“You liking Berlin?” the Irish boy asks. Zayn does, saying it’s a nice change in atmosphere. Louis says he would rather be home.

 

“But why, Lou?” Niall asks, frowning. He misses Cher like mad, but he is still making the most of the trip. He’s taking in as much of the experience as he can get, unsure if he and his friends will ever do something like this together again. Louis takes another drag at his cigarette, so Zayn takes charge and explains that he is worried about Harry. Louis shoots him a death glare.

 

“No shit I’m worried about him. His dad catches us on the front porch of his house, orders Harry in and for him to tell me to leave, and then Harry shows up at school with bruises and starts avoiding me like the fucking plague. He had himself moved from sitting beside me in English! How the fuck am I supposed to take this behaviour?” Louis is angry; Niall swears he can see the smoke coming out of his ears.

 

“Well, moping around sure as hell isn’t going to do anything, now is it? If you’re so fucking concerned about the boy, you could do something like ask Liam or Sonya about it; they’re his friends. They ought to know you two had been hanging out. Or, better yet, ask Harry himself,” Zayn, having a temper of his own, says immediately on the defense. Louis shakes his head saying it isn’t as easy as that.

 

“Fuck’s sake, Lou! Nothing will get done if you don’t take bloody action every once in a fucking while,” the raven-haired boy says while lighting up a second cigarette. Louis seems to decide he has had enough though as he turns to Niall and says:

 

“I’m packing my stuff and we’re switching rooms, yeah?” The blonde just wordlessly agrees, not in much of a state give of a verbal response. He has never seen Louis and Zayn go at it like that; their fights were always no big deal. Louis packs his stuff quickly, having not brought a whole lot to begin with, and the two lads make their way down the hall to Niall’s shared room with Liam.

 

“Hey, Niall! Mind letting me in?” Sonya asks, gesturing towards the door. She looks a little down, her grey-blue eyes dull.

 

“Yeah, no problem. I was just heading back in myself. Lou and I are switching,” he gives a warm smile as he notices her looking at Louis’s packed bag with a confused expression. Niall unlocks the door and opens it. The three teens get quite the eyeful.

 

Liam and Mrs. Green are standing in nothing but their underwear, lips kiss-swollen. It’s pretty obvious what was about to happen. Sonya is the first to get over the shock. The petite blonde stumbles backwards a bit, though her face is emotionless (the perfect poker face, really) and she rushes back to her room. The four remaining people just sort of stare at each other for a couple of minutes before Niall mumbles something about waiting in the lobby and shuts the door. Louis still looks a little dazed, but a smirk quickly makes its way onto his face.

 

“Never thought Liam of all people would be fucking his teacher,” he whispers before laughing. He and Niall make their way down to the lobby, deciding it would be best if they give the two lovers sometime to get dressed and out before moving Louis into the room and Niall out of it.

 

*

 

Liam is embarrassed, but it’s nothing compared to how pissed Laura is.

 

“How could you have been so stupid?! Now my job is at stake here, Liam. My life could be ruined!” she is pacing back and forth, absolutely stressed.

 

“No offence, but you’re the one who decided fucking in my student room that I _share_ with another student would be a good idea,” Liam frowns. He is not going to take full blame for this. Although he really did not mean to offend Laura, she seems to be offended anyway.

 

“So this is my fault, huh? You charmed and flirted with me – you wanted this,” she hisses.

 

“I didn’t want to get caught like that though! Honestly, Laura, calm down. They won’t say anything. I’ll talk to them and make sure of it, ok?” The young lad massages his lover’s back soothingly. Once everything has calmed down, Laura dresses and leaves, not wanting to get caught in the room again.

 

Liam sighs as he sits on the edge of the bed and rubs his forehead. He knows Niall and Louis won’t say anything; they’re more likely to congratulate him. It’s Sonya he is worried about. He knows she is going to be not only upset but also so disappointed in him.

 

*

 

To say that Sonya is devastated would be the understatement of the year. As her mother requested, she got her grades up in order for her full membership at the dance studio to be reinstated. Well, now her mother tells her that dancing really just cuts into studies and since she is doing so much better without it, her membership is just being completely cut off. And of course her mother, being the snake that she is, decided to wait until Sonya was on her school trip before saying anything. This is news that has broken her daughter’s heart, and she chose to deliver it over Skype. Originally, Sonya had wanted to go blow off some steam and talk with Liam. He is level headed and always finds way to calm her down. However, he unintentionally made everything worse.

 

It’s one thing to know the guy you love doesn’t love you back (and is, in fact, in love with your teacher), but it’s a whole other story to see said boy with said teacher obviously about to fuck. Sonya lies down on her bed staring up at ceiling wishing she were anywhere but there. There’s a knock at her door that she half considers ignoring, but then there’s another knock that’s more insistent, and she is getting up to answer. Liam looks at her; his eyes are begging to be allowed in. Begrudgingly, she opens the door wider so he can enter.

 

“Sonya, I’m sorry you had to see that,” Liam begins, “but please don’t tell anyone.” There is a small part of her that wants to cause trouble for Mrs. Green, however, the girl really has no plans of telling anyone, knowing it would only cause more problems between her and Liam.

 

“Yeah, ok. Just please get out, Liam. I’ve got a headache.” They both know she’s lying about the headache, but Liam takes the hint and heads towards the door with his head hanging low.

 

“I really am sorry.” Sonya hears him say before the sound of the door clicking shut.

 

*

 

Not much else happens in Berlin, and before they know it, their three-day trip is over, and they’re back home. Unfortunately, Zayn and Louis still aren’t talking; neither of them are willing to give up on their pride and apologize. It also seems Liam and Sonya aren’t talking much. Niall thinks he may be the only one that had a good time away.

 

He stops by a friend of Cher’s house, knowing that Cher is there for a party. Asking around, Niall is directed upstairs where he finds Cher blowing some random bloke in an empty bedroom. He stands in the doorway in shock, not really sure how to respond.

 

“Dude, do you mind?” the guy growls, gesturing to Cher, whose eyes go wide at the sight of Niall. She gets up instantly, chasing after Niall’s now retreating figure.

 

“Niall, please it’s not-“

 

“Don’t you dare say it’s not what it looks like, Cher. I don’t think there is much of a twist you can put on a fucking _blowjob_. I was gone three days and this is what you do? I-“ Cher sobs, knowing exactly what he is about to say.

 

“I can’t do this Cher. I’m done.” Niall leaves, not looking back once.

 

Cher stands there with tears streaming down her face; she finally had someone decent in her life, and she has already managed to fuck it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That fight between Zayn and Louis was originally like hardly explained and super juvenile. I hope this is slightly better? :/ But yeah, this was kind of more of a filler, though it did set up upcoming storyline so…
> 
> So it's been since October I think? But let me tell you: university is an asshole. God, first year really sucks. And I've been barely sorta kinda working on chapters 12 and 13 of this fic (though I'm struggling with writer's block and lack of time for both of them).
> 
> Thank you for leaving kudos and comments, as well as bookmarking :)


	7. Zayn & Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't do as many read throughs of this chapter as I've done with the others, so if I've missed a typo, please let me know! :))

chapter seven: Zayn & Harry

 

Zayn isn’t really sure why he and Louis aren’t talking. It’s like the guy is a ticking time bomb and if anything that might remotely relate to Harry is mentioned he goes off. So maybe that’s why Zayn isn’t really in the mood to talk to Louis; the guy needs to calm down. The fact that he’s gotten so worked up over someone he knew for such a short period of time is concerning, but the mocha skinned lad is pretty sure there’s nothing he can do but wait for Louis to come to him.

 

So while he waits, Zayn’s been focusing on his art. Now that he finally has a muse, he finds everything comes so much easier to him. He never really understood the concept until he saw Harry in the auditorium at the beginning of the year. He can sense the feeling in his art now; before, it was just a piece of work that he did out of boredom. Now, they have life and inspiration to them. Zayn feels something when he looks at his recent art pieces, and others can too. His parents even made a comment on some of his pieces they saw in the background during a Skype chat once.

 

Since first spotting Harry all those weeks ago, Zayn has developed a bit of interest in flowers and well, drawing nature in general. He’s got paintings of landscapes and animals all over his home studio. The weather is shit outside, it being mid November and all, so he is at Remmington Gardens, which are basically some indoor gardens with modified temperatures to allow for some exotic plants to grow. Zayn has spent quite a number of hours here, drawing the different flowers, bushes and trees. Today, Zayn is in the local garden. It is the most comfortable of the gardens, though the plants aren’t quite as fun to draw; he normally comes into the local garden when he wants to relax. He’s walking on a path when he spots a curly haired head with a white daisy and lilac crown on it. Walking towards the bench, Zayn realizes that it is Harry sitting there.

 

“Hey mate,” he says, “may I sit?” Harry nods without even looking up. Zayn sits for a moment, fingers tapping on his sketchbook. The noise seems to get Harry’s attention as his head perks up a little.

 

“May I look?” he asks timidly, a small smile on his face. Zayn thinks he looks absolutely adorable and passes the sketchbook over. It’s not until Harry is already flipping through it that the raven-haired teen realizes there are some portraits of Harry in there. Shit.

 

“Wow,” the flower prince says, “you made me look really perfect. You’re amazing, Zayn.” Harry is resisting the urge to touch the drawing he’s staring at. In it, Harry is grinning, but his eyes are sad; the flower crown in his curls is droopy. It’s one of the most recent portraits Zayn has done of Harry, and the artist isn’t sure he likes it.

 

“I wouldn’t say I made you perfect,” the older boy gives a slight smile, “your jawline is much better looking in real life.” The curly haired boy’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink; Zayn quite likes the colour.

 

“Your dimples are cuter too. I didn’t quite get them right.”

 

“Is that your way of saying you want to do a proper portrait then?” Harry asks, tilting his head to the side like a curious kitten. He’s not really sure what Zayn sees in him, but the lad makes Harry’s insides feel warm and butterflies fly around in his stomach.

 

“Only if you want me to, babe,” Zayn winks. The younger boy nods, saying he would love to. They make their way back to Zayn’s place, which is a fairly short bus ride from the gardens. Harry glances around the townhouse like it’s the prettiest home he has ever been in.

 

“You live here by yourself?” Harry sounds absolutely astonished. Zayn explains how his family moved to the States but want him to finish his education in England since he is so close to being done anyways.

 

“Will you go to the States when you’re done school then?”

 

“I might for the summer, but England is home,” Zayn answers. Harry smiles and nods, which makes the mocha skinned lad feel like he gave the right answer despite this not being some sort of game show. They head upstairs to Zayn’s studio and get Harry set up in a comfortable position. This drawing will just be shoulders up, which makes the younger boy happy cause he can slouch on the couch and it doesn’t matter. Zayn manages to get the basics of the drawing done and takes a few pictures of Harry before he leaves so he can work on the shading later that night.

 

“Thanks for having me, Zayn.” Harry’s smile reaches his eyes for the first time in weeks.

 

“Come over anytime, Harry.” Zayn smiles back.

 

Over the next couple of weeks, Harry comes over more often than not. Zayn will help him with his homework, and Harry does some modeling for him in return. The two get to know each other fairly well over that time however, Zayn still doesn’t know much about Harry’s family life. The boy will talk about Liam, Sonya, or some other kids at school, but never about a mom, dad, or any siblings. Zayn isn’t stupid: he’s seen the bruises Harry has come to school with before; hell, he’s drawn some of them. He knows something isn’t quite right, but he knows he doesn’t know Harry well enough to push him for any details.

 

Zayn wakes up to his buzzing phone. Squinting at the alarm clock, he sees it is 2:30am.

 

“’lo?” He answers the phone; his eyes still a little too light sensitive to actually read the caller ID.

 

“I’m sorry to call, but I need help,” Harry sounds absolutely broken on the phone. Zayn can tell he is trying to hold back sobs.

 

“Where are you, Harry?”

 

“McDonald’s on third and Humphrey,” the younger boy’s sobbing makes it a little hard to understand, but Zayn gets it.

 

“Stay there, ok? I’m on my way right now.” Harry promises to stay put, and then the call ends. Zayn quickly throws on a pair of sweatpants and a Harvard university hoodie. He manages to get to the McDonald’s in ten minutes (it normally take twenty). He sees Harry leaning against the building, shivering in just a t-shirt and jeans.

 

Zayn pulls his hoodie off and passes it to Harry, who slips it on immediately. Zayn is now sitting shirtless in the driver’s seat; Harry is shivering and soaked in the passenger’s. The drive back to Zayn’s takes longer than the drive to the McDonald’s. The heat is cranked; Harry is holding is hands in front of the vents like one does a fire. He decides to wait until morning to ask Harry what happened, but given the black eye that seems to be darkening, Zayn has an idea.

 

“I really don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Harry bites his lip, standing in the doorway of Zayn’s room. He’s dressed in the dry t-shirt and boxers Zayn had given him, the sweat pants hanging from his right hand. The amber-eyed lad has to force his eyes to stay focused on the younger boy’s face.

 

“Uhh, yeah, come ‘ere.” Harry smiles gratefully, crawling under the covers and snuggles right up to Zayn. They’re facing each other; the older boy isn’t sure if he should try and put some space between them or not, but then Harry is pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to his lips.

 

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, snuggling impossibly closer.

 

Zayn knows he shouldn’t encourage this; he knows that Louis has some sort of crazy feelings for the lad currently lying in his bed. But his lips are tingling, and he really can’t help but press a firmer kiss to Harry’s mouth.

 

“No problem, love.”

 

The next morning, Harry makes fried eggs, bacon and toast for breakfast. They eat in silence until Harry starts talking. He knows he owes Zayn an explanation for last night at the very least.

 

“Richard, my stepdad, started drinking after my mum died. When he’s sober, he’s wonderful, but he isn’t sober much anymore.” Harry is frowning down at his hands, unable to make eye contact with Zayn. He always has such a hard time talking about Richard, it’s pretty embarrassing, and so he normally just doesn’t.

 

“He doesn’t trust anyone nowadays. He’d homeschool me if he wasn’t so useless with school. Last night,” he hiccups, the tears want to fall so badly, “Last night, he somehow found out about how you and I have been hanging out and he…he threatened to come after you.” Zayn wraps his arms around the trembling boy, rubbing his back soothingly. He gently kisses Harry and presses their foreheads together.

 

“I couldn’t let him do that, Zayn. I begged him not to, but that just made him angrier. He-he called me a fag and he just...” Harry pushes away from Zayn to remove the borrowed t-shirt. Scattering the long torso are dark bruises that contrast greatly with the milky pale skin. Some are more recent than others. The older lad can feel the anger burning inside of him; he just wants to beat the living hell out of Richard.

 

“You’re not going back there,” he says, “you’re gonna move in here. We can go get your stuff sometime, if you’d like.” Harry’s eyes widen in shock; he immediately starts shaking his head.

 

“No, no, no, Zayn. It’ll just make things worse. He’s already going to be so pissed that I ran off last night. I have to go back.” There is no way Harry can leave Richard; the man has said so himself that he would kill him and anyone who helped him get away.

 

“I can’t let you go back, Harry! What if he kills you one of these times?”

 

“It wouldn’t matter that much,” the curly haired boy mumbles, his head hanging low. Zayn wants to shake some sense into him, but knows he needs to be careful. Harry is in quite a fragile state and needs compassion right now.

 

“It would matter to me. It would matter a lot, actually.” Harry looks up in disbelief. To prove his point, Zayn kisses him again. The kiss is full of passion and says things words never could. Harry feels a little dazed when they finally part, and when Zayn tells him to move in again, he finds himself agreeing.

 

A few days later, they pull up in front of Harry’s soon-to-be old home. Zayn has assured Harry that he will handle Richard, and all the curly haired boy has to do is pack up his things. They enter through the back; it appears Richard either isn’t home or is napping. Most of Harry’s stuff is in the back of Zayn’s car when Richard finally makes an appearance.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Harry?” Richard is a large man, with a deep powerful voice. Zayn can understand why Harry would be scared of him, but no matter what, Zayn is not going to let this man walk all over him.

 

“What do you think he’s doing?” the raven-haired boy snarls, “I think it’s pretty fucking obvious.” Richard looks over at Zayn with a fake bored expression; the anger in his mud brown eyes is obvious.

 

“I was talking to Harry,” the man glares, “Now, _Harry_ , where the fuck are you going?” Harry is paralyzed, but one look over to Zayn and he feels a little burst of confidence.

 

“I’m leaving. I can’t live like this anymore,” he says, voice managing to stay mostly steady. Richard starts laughing.

 

“No, you’re not. Unpack your stuff,” he commands. The look on his face tells Harry that if he doesn’t listen he is going to seriously regret it. Zayn sees this happening: the way Richard can manipulate Harry without even speaking. It’s sickening.

 

“Harry,” he says, which seems to snap the boy out of his daze.

 

“I’m leaving,” the curly haired boy says, though with less conviction than the first time. Harry is honestly surprised with himself; he isn’t the shaking mess he was expecting himself to be.

 

Zayn grabs Harry before Richard’s fist manages to get lifted above his head. He rushes the boy out the front door as Richard’s fist collides with the wall. He yells and goes to chase after them. The raven-haired lad pushes a tall floor lamp over, effectively (and unintentionally) knocking the man on the head. The two teens practically throw themselves into Zayn’s small Toyota. Once they’ve driven about three blocks away in complete silence, Harry finally speaks.

 

“Holy shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Zayn (and everyone for that matter) is probably too young to actually have their driver’s license in England, but whatever this can be a joy ride or completely legal in this fictional England X)  
> Also! Any address I mention/mentioned in this fic will be/was made up.
> 
> As always thank you for reading and leaving kudos :D
> 
> \- - - 
> 
> Super excited to say I'm finished with school for now, though I'll be working more because I have a trip to Toronto planned out since a friend and I are seeing the WWA tour when it's there. But anyways, the plan is to get some writing done this summer. I have a pirate AU I've been working on since early early last year, so I'm hoping to get that done and then start to edit and post it in addition to moving pas the writer's block I have for this fic. Got other ideas too, so praying for a successful summer!


	8. Sonya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while. And this is totes a filler, soz :(  
> I've made some progress on one of the two chapters I've been struggling with, but exams are coming so idk how fast updates will be or when this will be finished. Some stuff plot-wise still needs to be worked out, too.

chapter eight: Sonya

Sonya is about done with her family - more specifically, her mother. Things have been pretty tough since she got back from Berlin; she’s been having to go to a different dance studio, volunteering as a teacher’s assistant in order to be given access to the studio for free. Her marks are slipping back to where they were, as she has to dedicate more time to dance due to the situation she’s in thanks to her mother. She’s lost some of her dance friends because of this, though she isn’t sure she should call them friends if they’re willing to drop her that quickly.

 

All in all, Sonya is pretty lonely and miserable without her best friend. However, neither her nor Liam have really put in any effort to start talking again after their conversation in Berlin. And then Harry has been far too busy following Zayn Malik like a lost puppy lately; she isn’t sure why, but she can tell Zayn’s brunette friend, Louis she believes his name is, isn’t too thrilled about them hanging out. He gets this sort of confused-pouty-frown when he looks at them.

 

Sonya gets home from teaching dance at around eight. Her mother is sitting at the dining table, drinking her evening tea.

 

“You’re always out of the house, Sonya. Dance will not get you anywhere in life. You need to be focused on your studies.” Anita scolds. Her whole attitude these past few weeks have really been getting on Sonya’s nerves, and today is the last straw.

 

“My grades are fine, so why the fuck would I do that?” she snarls, grey-blue eyes icy. Her mother almost spits her tea out in shock.

 

“Because your marks aren’t high enough to get into medical school. We moved here to build the best life we could for _you_ ,” Anita’s blue eyes match her daughter’s. The argument is on then; Sonya informs her mother of her plan to become a teacher, which Anita shoots down as “not being good enough for her baby.” The fight gets heated enough that Anita informs her daughter that she should leave the house for the next couple of days to re-evaluate her life.

 

Sonya races out of the house with a packed duffle bag. She has no idea where she is going, but for now, her plan is to get far away. After walking for about fifteen minutes, she stops at a café for a tea to calm her nerves. About half way through her cup, Niall enters and plops down in the seat across from her.

 

“Why the long face, Sunny?” the Irish boy asks, seeming to actually care. Sunny is a nickname Sonya hasn’t been called since she was younger. Hearing it again warmed her heart. Niall and Sonya have never been close, but they’ve never been distant either. Friendly acquaintances one could say. The blonde girl isn’t quite sure what makes her open up to Niall so easily, but all of a sudden everything comes flying out of her mouth: the issues with her mother, Liam, everything. Niall listens intently and doesn’t speak until she’s finished.

 

“I’ll help you out with a place, ok? You can stay with my family, or maybe even Zayn and Harry will let you crash with ‘em? They’re actually meeting me here, so we’ll work it out, yeah?” Sonya could actually kiss Niall; she’s so damn thankful for him.

 

“Sonya!” Harry cheers when he walks through the café’s door, dragging the ‘a’ sound out. He looks way better now that he is living with Zayn; there’s lightness in his eyes, some colour to him (though he is still pale, but that’s just his skin tone), and now he just looks lanky thin instead of deathly thin. Sonya gets up to give her curly haired friend a hug before sitting down again, only this time at a bigger table for the four of them.

 

“Everything alright?” Zayn asks, frowning at the duffle bag on the floor. Niall gives a quick summary of the argument Sonya had with her mother. The tanned skin boy offers Sonya a place as soon as the Irish lad finishes speaking.

 

“You can bunk in my room,” Harry’s whole face lights up, “it’ll be awesome.” Sonya thanks Zayn, and afterwards, her issues aren’t brought up again. It feels nice to just chat, drink tea, and catch up. Sonya has really missed having people she knows like her for her, and not for what dance studio she goes to, in her life. After a few hours of sitting in the café, Niall heads out saying he’s got to run a few errands before heading home. The remaining three decide to leave then, too.

 

Zayn’s townhouse is much neater than Sonya was expecting given that two teenaged boys live in it, but then she remembers how much of a neat freak Harry is. When he shows her his room, it actually appears as though it has been used. There are a few clothes on the floor, which Harry picks up and throws into the laundry basket immediately, and the bed is unmade, which the boy apologizes for.

 

“Honestly, it’s me, Haz. I don’t make my bed for shit,” the blonde laughs. She was almost positive that Zayn and Harry were sleeping together, so the state of Harry’s room is a bit of a surprise. She asks Harry what he and Zayn are, which causes a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. He explains that they’ve snogged and done “some stuff” but haven’t gone all the way.

 

“I just…I’m not ready for anything serious, and that is serious to me. It always brings about messy feelings,” he bites his lip. Sonya examines Harry for a moment before realizing what he really meant to say.

 

“You’re still into Louis,” she says flatly. No enthusiasm but no judgement, either.

 

“I think so, yeah. I miss him, Sonya,” he pouts, “I mean, I like Zayn, but Louis won’t leave my head. It’s confusing.” The blue-eyed girl hugs her friend, letting him know it’s all right and that he has plenty of time to figure his feelings out. Harry snuggles into the hug, having missed his friend.

 

“Sorry I left at such a bad time,” he says after a couple minutes of silence.

 

“Nonsense, Hazza. You had shit going on too. To be honest, I’m so happy you’re out of Richard’s house. After you told me what was going on, it made sense that you needed some time to get adjusted. I don’t hold that against you, love.” He snuggles in closer to her after that. Neither of them are sure how long they sit cuddling, but Zayn eventually comes in to say good night. The two friends smile at him from the bed, saying good night before getting themselves ready for bed.

 

“I’m really glad you’re here, Sonya. We’re gonna get you and Liam talking again, ok?” Harry mumbles sleepily. Sonya just sighs and tells Harry to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure Iceland is probably a great place to live, and I actually really want to visit there one day X)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! If you've left kudos or bookmarked, then thank you for that, too!!


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